Between Sands and Stones
by Pollux Unbound
Summary: Stark, Primera Espada, shall die of loneliness, and Szayel, Octava Espada, of madness. That is the inescapable pattern, cruel and devoid of salvation. SzayelStark StarkSzayel Shounen-ai
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach

I could hear, with astonishing details, the activities in the next room. Grimmjow must be a hustler to make Cuatro scream like that. As for me, I flatly found it hard to recognize what sort of enjoyment could be derived from fucking the brains out of someone every night. Surely it would get repetitive at some point in time. But who was I to judge? I never knew the sensation, the pleasure, the thrill- just plainly nothing of it.

So this night again was to meet no sleep from me. I was sure the noise coming from the other side of the wall wasn't solely responsible for it, but something more urgent was, as a matter of fact. Aizen-sama had made it a point to assign me in the exploration of Stark's duality and its nature, which suited me just _fine_. It wasn't like I was given plenty of choices to start with. In any case, I had been told that he was indeed two entities, which frankly was some primitive mumbo-jumbo hypothesized by someone who had the mental capacity of Diez Espada. But, as it had been ordained by the great lord, I was wise enough to keep my sentiments to myself. After all, it wouldn't be of any difference; I'd prove everyone wrong in the end.

At about half past twelve, Grimmjow and Ulquiorra had ceased making their unpleasant sounds. At the same time, I wouldn't entirely be relieved of disturbance because no sooner than the noise died down did a series of impatient knocks issue from my door. My subject had arrived.

"Come in."

Stark walked in, disinterested and dazed due to lack of sleep-or should I say excess thereof? With fists stuffed in his pockets, he probably intended to appear like he meant business, although he already looked serious enough without having to do such.

"I'll take a seat."

Before he could, I motioned at him to take the stool beside me, just in time to intercept his descent on my newly purchased couch, a luxury item compared to the other contents of my room. He scowled at me, but obeyed anyway.

"Where is your companion?"

"Lilineth? I was sure she was following me… is she needed in this procedure?"

"I should think so. The objective of this experiment is to determine whether you two are separable in a permanent sense."

"To determine only? Can't you, like, wrench her away from me, _forever_?"

"No one lives forever, Stark."

He scratched his head, like the way he always did when things got too troublesome for him, meaning he did that all the time.

"I mean, how about you revert things the way they were before I split into two bodies?"

"We must first gain absolute assurance that your body and soul can survive in her absence. She is a part of you, and your ultimate weapon. I'm more inclined to think things won't go as you desire."

He scratched his head again, more vigorously this time as if he'd just been sentenced to a day of maintenance work. I knelt down before him, a rather undignified action, but I had no choice; I had to obtain flesh from his thighs, where it was advisable to extract muscle tissues if inflicting pain wasn't so high on your list. As far as I was concerned, I strictly wasn't planning to go on the bad side of someone like Primera Espada.

"Need assistance?" He inquired.

"Please roll your Hakama up."

He did as he was told, almost docilely, not knowing what sort of pain was in store for him. I produced an oversized utensil, one humans used for biopsy, all the while propping myself to witness its interesting effect.

"OUCH, Holy mother fuck! That hurt! Aaaargh!"

I was sure this was the first time I saw him completely awake, and I perhaps would've snickered loud enough to wake the entire palace if only he wouldn't writhe around as though death was really thick on him or he wished it to be.

"Stark, are you okay?"

"Of course I'm _not_! Geez, what did I ever do to deserve this pain?"

"I need to verify the composition of your cells to advance my research on you. I'm sorry but this painful procedure is absolutely necessary."

He was nursing his thigh, a good portion of his normally clothed leg revealed under the lab lamps. I allowed a few minutes to be spent at his leisure, to perhaps alleviate whatever he was suffering from-as if something like a biopsy could be painful to people like us. Still panting and vexed, he spoke,

"Are we done here? Did you get what you want?"

His voice was deep as I'd known it, almost altogether composed, but I couldn't really miss the shaky ring that accompanied it.

"I managed to extract tissue, alright, so let's hope this should be enough. You can go now, and please be back next week; same time."

He rose to his feet, without bothering to straighten his Hakama, and limped towards my lovely couch. Now as bad a sight as any worn-out warrior, he said, sounding as though he was basically making excuses to be around-or I was _imagining _it,

"You go on with your stuff. I'll rest my leg here for a little while, so just ignore me; I'll be gone sooner than you'd think I overstayed."

"I'll trust you on that one."

I went about my business, keeping in mind that I was in complete solitude, when suddenly snore filled the room. Stark had fallen asleep. The more I watched him, the greater seemed my necessity to be left alone. With irritation, I began to ponder if pain was more conducive to inviting sleep or alertness, the latter being the more ordinary case. In the case of Stark, maybe it was a comfort to consider anything could induce him to doze off.

I drew closer, faster than my sense could gain complete authority over me.

_Why was he number one? Just what made him so goddamn brilliant, simple as he was?_

He didn't even look serene in his sleep. If anything, his general appearance didn't exactly spell savage, yet most especially not decent, with nothing of the majesty you'd expect from someone you couldn't trample on and whose strength naturally demanded respect. On second thoughts, however, his slender body would earn much on a runway, especially the legs; they were so long and fair to look upon. The face wasn't bad, either. He was maybe fearsome to look at, or perhaps something else, but whatever it was, it wasn't scary enough.

His breathing grew heavier as he plunged deeper into slumber. I couldn't recall having stared at someone for as long as I stood there, perhaps memorizing his sound and the sight he presented.

I stood over him while he tossed around and tilted in crazy angles, after which the movements subsided. He was even deeper in his sleep now. And then surprisingly, he talked in his sleep, with sounds so easily discernible, yet absurd all the same,

"_Szayel_…"

**TBC**

**A/N: Dunno what came over me to write this, but the pairing has pretty much grown in me. anyway, this shall span four chapters.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

My ears were playing tricks on me but, apparently, for that to happen required at least two things: first, I, perfect me, would have to have _imperfect _hearing and; Stark wasn't dreaming of me, of all people. Now, the latter sounded more convincing, as something like that, I admit, was likely in all manner of consideration. Furthermore, if it was somehow possible I was a constant occupant of his mind, quite enough to make him murmur my name in his sleep, that would mean he was one among a thousand others who held me in their thoughts secretly, consistently… which would be absurd upon further evaluation of the person in question. Stark was a stone, besides being the strongest among the Espada.

I couldn't bring myself to dwell on it, or rather I didn't wanna dwell on it longer than I ought to. He _was _dreaming of me, nevertheless, because that was the only truth laid out for me in the face of my deductions. That being said, whatever the dream might've been about was no concern of mine, for, as universal rules decreed, dreams never came true.

--

I expected to experience a decent sleep tonight and, as a matter of fact, I found myself working on the possibilities by producing an extra set of pillows from my bureau. And then a distant, yet clearly audible all the same, clamoring was heard outside my window. For one thing, my room dangled eight floors above natural ground level, therefore rendering it forty-plus meters from the ground floor if you took into account the fact that Las Noches was megalomaniac in all respects. For another, the glazing on my window was soundproof, otherwise we weren't well provided for by our lord, Aizen-sama. Hence if the voices I was hearing from outside could penetrate my room, it was either their owners had formidable vocal power or they were simply testing my patience.

I threw the panels open. Down below were Stark and Lilineth, skidding across the sandy planes with no visible reason to do so other than to get their shoes filled with sand or to occasion me eye bags. I wanted to hurl a few appliances at them, at the same time feeling dissuaded just as much for not even remotely possessing adequate energy, perhaps strength, to combat Number One himself. And that was considering his sidekick wouldn't lift a finger.

"Stark! Wait up!" The little girl hobbled after her other half, procuring for my eyes what probably was the oddest pair that walked on sand.

"If you can't keep up, just go back." Primera Espada told her with nothing to indicate real emotion.

"What the hell? Just what is it that you have to do outside the palace anyway? And this sand is getting on my nerves, I'm telling ya!"

I planted my elbows on the windowpane, more instinctively than consciously as what I was to find out later than necessary. To my dismay, I couldn't help myself from watching them. They were my research subjects, after all.

"Then stop following me."

"What did you say?? I ain't following you! I _am _you! Besides, the _mad _scientist is watching us, stupid. It's not wise to look stupid in front of people, you know, especially in front of _crazy _people…" Lilineth hollered at her companion, pointing a finger at _me_. It would've occasioned me more alarm than insult if she had lowered her voice just a little. Necessarily, I was tempted to fire a Cero at her or to just shut the window and be done with this stupid nonsense. But if I had I choice, I'd go for the former, definitely.

"Zip it, Lilineth. He's not mad and certainly not crazy. Additionally, perhaps you're forgetting he'll do a sort of medical check up on _you _next week. Do you wanna end up in more than one piece after that?"

That shut her up just in time for me to realize there was no urgent need of introducing my Resurrection Form to her. In consequence, I found myself smirking as Lilineth shot me a sideway glance which was coupled with a difficult gulp. This really was getting funny, so much that I could laugh it out loud. Only that I seriously would have to restrain myself from such action if Stark was around. So, as natural as the dawning of day, my eyes fell on _him_. He had stopped his tread just beside a huge chunk of rock with a smooth surface. As always, his fists were in his pockets and he obviously felt like sleeping, especially when the weather and the hour encouraged just that. He sank into a seat. Our eyes met. And then all of a sudden I felt a weight in my stomach, and something told me it wasn't the wind responsible for that.

"You're gonna sleep here? Here outside? Are you insane or are you just extra stupid??"

"Go away. I'm sleepy."

I didn't know what to make of the scene or why he was acting like that and not like any other. To start with, if he only intended to get rid of his little shadow, with the unreasonable price of settling for an uncomfortable chunk of rock instead of the bed he had in his quarters, a lot of other options were open for consideration, choices which wouldn't even involve real thinking. He could, for one thing, tuck himself in one of the hundreds of guest chambers scattered everywhere where hallways were present. But he opted for something different this time, pursued something that would singularly gather my attention.

"Are you _trying _to show off to the mad scientist?"

Lilineth's query, naturally, caught me off guard. Yet, unsettling as her words were, I hadn't expected Stark to react in such a way that would betray his composure. And he looked so perturbed by the thought.

"For the last time, Lilineth, I need to get a decent sleep."

"With this sandstorm? On a stupid rock?"

"I wanted to get rid of you."

"You silly blockhead! Then why did you let me follow you?"

"I thought you'd give up halfway through. Now give up already."

"I can't leave you here! If Apollo Grantz does something funny on you--"

"--he wouldn't do anything, idiot. Just how many times do I have to tell you off?"

Stark said in a voice that sounded stern and uncertain at the same time. I perused him more closely, gradually understanding he was more than half sincere, or at least that was how it looked like most of all. But Lilineth was studying him skeptically now, as if she'd stumbled upon some confidential shit girls of her age were not supposed to find out. Slowly, she spoke,

"Oh no. Hell no, Stark. _Don't_ tell me you really have something goin' on for the mad scientist."

"Will you shut the…forget it." Stark collapsed on his back and covered his eyes with his palm.

I reckoned it would be a long time before either of us Espada would forget about this. I felt my cheeks grow hotter despite the chill, and, more than that, for some reason, I expected this uneasiness to be mutual to some extent. I was blushing, thus necessarily the same was true with Primera Espada.

"Dammit, Stark, come on! Tell me--no, really, don't tell me you really fancy that candy-haired lunatic!" Lilineth pleaded second time around, and a far less polite note went with that one, simply due to the fact that she threw her index finger at me more violently this time.

"Geez, let me sleep."

"But, you're not doing this to _me_! If you like him, that would mean I--I would have to like him too!"

"We split up, remember? We're now two separate beings and that's that. Now, if you please…" Stark said before rolling over his side to turn his back on his companion. At first I expected him to do something unbecoming of him, but thank heaven it didn't come to that.

As for Lilineth, she was on the verge of tears and was ranting with apparently no great hope,

"So that explains why you were so happy when you went back from his room! Don't tell me something happened! Don't tell me you--you--you're smitten with that dude!"

If I were discommoded by all the atrocities shooting off the runt's mouth, Stark must be more so for being the receiving end of it all. As things were, he sat bolted upright, looking as fierce as the wolf inside him. I rarely make distinctions over facial contortions, but there the resemblance ended, because now it became clear to me that his cheeks were flushed with color more furiously than he initially allowed me to see, or than mine were.

"Would you mind not talking as though he wasn't here? He can hear you, you know."

"I don't care! Tell me you don't fancy him!"

"Jesus, you're torturing me."

"I knew it! You fancy him! _Don't_ tell me _if _you do! Just don't."

"That's settled, then."

Stark resumed his usual demeanor, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place or was said.

"What do you mean that's settled?"

Watching from here, I persevered to attune myself to this new reality, that Stark had no power, nor the heart, to deny what the little idiot was accusing him of. And conversely, absurd as it might sound, I found myself delighting on the possibility that I could convert this probability into a reality. But who had the power to move his heart? And why would I desire something like that? I was perhaps tired.

And then Stark answered, to decide the end of their argument,

"You said, 'don't tell me', then I won't tell."

**TBC**

**A/N: just read bleach 375. wished there were more panels with stark in it, though.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

No matter how one might see it, I couldn't look at him in the eyes-not that it was so hard to do when his lids were getting in the way most of the time. He was half-dozing, apparently, the other half of his consciousness scowling the morning away quite without his knowledge. Beside him was Tia Halibel, Tercera Espada, who seemed to be in pretty good humor so early in the morning, for reasons more or less obvious. But surely, this was different from harboring suspicions too vaguely founded. She kept glancing at her side, as if Stark was a magnet to her eyes.

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep." I heard the pale, irritable, and therefore very short of sleep Primera Espada say from across the table.

Of course, this was something that regularly came out of his mouth when the Espada were finding it hard to keep their hands from strangling each other. To start with, Nnoitora was conducting his usual provocative comments to the constant receiver of his trash-talk, Halibel, who would merely stare regretfully in return, to which Quinto would flare up. At the other end of the table, Cuatro, though subdued, was giving himself self-satisfaction as Sexta blared at him with all sorts of murderous threats flying out his mouth. Last night probably hadn't gone well for them. Hence if no one was to beg for silence, the meeting might as well take place in hell.

In the midst of the verbal onslaught and before I could stop myself, I watched him.

Stark was staring at me.

I shrugged at him and mouthed, without resorting to actual sounds, what came naturally to mind,

Are you okay?

I didn't know what I was doing, but I was doing what was needed. He was at the last strip of tolerance, and a minute more of this sort of noise would get things out of hand. Stark's wrath was something I didn't wish to witness. But, setting aside necessities, it was unbecoming of me to demonstrate genuine concern. Thus I could only try to look away. And then he did the last thing I expected him to do; he replied in the same fashion,

I'm getting out of here. You?

This must have been what was known as confidential intimacy. I felt somewhat privileged for having received a response, and maybe embarrassed too, for managing the guts to initiate something so out of place. In any case, I declined,

I'll stay. Aizen-sama shall arrive soon.

He shrugged, closed his eyes, and tried to enjoy his slack while he still could. In the next second, I found myself trying to distinguish if he felt disappointed, and later on realized my imagination had gone overboard. I hardly had the time to reproach myself because not a moment later Aizen-sama emerged from the door to stage once again another useless act of civility; the daily meeting commenced.

I never got the clear sense of the point of all this, if there was indeed one. So here I was again, treading my way downstairs to eventually reach the end of my hallway journey to my room, after a long discussion over things I simply failed to remember. What I had in mind exactly went along the lines of 'Aizen-sama should really stop wasting our time'.

I dredged on the deserted hallways, whose only source of light was the paleness the walls were kind enough to diffuse. Upon reaching the flight of stairs, I soon began feeling obliged to conjure a Cero but thought better of it. After all, darkness was my arena. Unfortunately, the thought lost its credibility when I bumped into someone and knocked both of us out of balance, to take with me the lucky person I ran headlong to, and together we tumbled over what seemed like a million treads of stairs, with our limbs clutching to one another for support as a brutal array of groans assaulted the formerly grim corridor.

"Damn." a voice said upon recovery. Helplessly, I tried to straighten up but deduced that further rash movements, or any movement at all, would put me in greater debt to the person I dragged into this accident.

The owner of the voice was Stark, as luck would have it.

He conjured a tiny Cero to reveal how bad we looked. We were at the foot of the landing, with me on top of him, both my knees and palms planted on the ground so that he was right beneath me in between my legs. The odd thing was, he was still clinging to me, his palm on my waist. On top of that, our faces were only three inches apart and not more than that. I heaved myself up, feeling impelled to kneel down once more for an entirely different purpose; a nice shot at apology. But, of course, I wouldn't do that.

I shouldn't dwell on it, but he kept his hand fastened on me until I got both my feet set right.

"I'm sorry, Stark. I couldn't see well in this darkness and I didn't sense you at all."

He scratched his hair without even bothering to pull himself up. For my part, I vaguely wished he required assistance for that, in which case I should perhaps hold out my hand…I must be out of my mind.

"Never mind. Thanks for waking me up."

"You were sleeping-while standing?"

"Sort of."

There were many things so arresting about this dude, and not less was the fact that he could sleep anyway he liked… which reminded me of something. It was only a week ago when he had spoken my name in his sleep, rousing up this curiosity in me about what he had been dreaming about. But madly interested as I was, it was a wholly different matter to ask him something that personal.

"Well, I'd like to think you sleepwalked the wrong way; your room is two floors below."

Finally he stood up, to tower over me, further enhancing the shadows that surrounded us.

"No. Actually, I was waiting for you."

As an immediate consequence, my embarrassment was replaced by fear, not for something he might do to me but for what I was tempted to say next. For reasons I couldn't explain, my heart started to hammer away against my ribcage.

"F-for me?"

"Yeah. We have an appointment, don't we, regarding my duality?"

I must say, I should lay off caffeine if I intended to live long enough to see the end of this experiment. I couldn't exactly tell if it was relief or disappointment that silenced the activities of my heart but, whatever it was, I wasn't better without it. Apart from it all, I never thought diligence could be expected from him…

"Come along, then."

The more time I spent with him, alone, the harder it seemed to reconcile myself with the thought that he'd be gone after what he was set out to do here, when there no longer was a reason to stay. I busied myself with my task, occasionally throwing furtive glances at his direction, only learning I ought to cut it with the staring because the last thing I had on my profession list was a master gaper.

"There's something I'd like to ask you." He started.

"Fire away."

"Aizen-sama had something in mind. Well, what are the modes of reproduction in the case of Arrancars, besides the Hogyokou and cloning, of course?"

It wasn't a question I expected, considering how much it hinted on education, in which he had shown the least of interests.

"I have never heard of sexual intercourse between our kind- except for Jaggerjack and Ulquiorra but that's a different story-since we live in a place where there's never a lack of deadly enmity, even between individuals of opposite sexes. But reproduction is universal and, where fertility is present the natural, most common process of reproduction would be sex."

Unless I was hallucinating, he was crestfallen.

"Any alternatives?"

"Test-tube fertilization, which still remains only theoretically possible because I haven't tried it before, owing to everyone's refusal to donate sperm and eggs. Is there a problem?"

"Aizen is pretty serious about adding another member of the family who'd more or less possess strength equal to mine. He insists that producing an individual with such qualities is beyond the powers of the Hogyokou. He suggests I should have a child with a female Arrancar, Halibel preferably, so that in no way shall the 'finished product' be inferior to either of us parents."

That veritably stunned me. Slowly, I realized with piercing clarity, and quite too late at that, that anger was coursing through me. If he had shown the slightest of disagreement against Aizen-sama's plans, I wouldn't have to choke back the lump that had built up my throat, nor would I have known I was capable of fury of this level…

"Good luck, then." I managed to mutter and, although I tried to help it, I was completely aware that my tone contradicted the words it served.

I was ready to bet I'd lash out on him and be a complete retard when he answered,

"Why doesn't he just fuck her himself if he wanted a goddamn strong spawn so much? He'd make a good father… maybe not."

I came to my senses, reluctantly.

"Halibel's a fine woman, Stark; you might regret turning her down afterwards." I heard myself say.

His eyes narrowed, and subsequently it struck me that I was alone with the strongest warrior among the Espada.

"Regret? Why would I?"

He stood up and walked over me


	4. Chapter 4

I didn't know what came over him, but nevertheless he walked on to me, or his feet carried him to where I was for the hell of it. Thankfully, he stopped short of an uncomfortable distance, if you'd rather call it that than kissing distance. In any case, he stopped advancing, which for some reason failed to make me seem less uneasy.

And also without reason, he asked me, his face close enough for me to feel his breath,

"D'you really think I'll regret something like that?"

Without taking a step backward, I reckoned I managed to convey how much I hated what he was doing,

"Frankly, I wouldn't know. You're unpredictable; need I say more?"

At this point, I managed to establish three things: Stark was capable of aggression, maybe even seduction; two could play this game and; I didn't know what I was getting myself into. As much as I could tell, it hadn't started this way and there had never been something suspicious about him before he had entered my room and murmured my name in his sleep. And then I started getting this stupid idea, which was stupid by all means but it was better than nothing, I guessed; he was attracted to me, in one way or another. Sure enough, it didn't stop there, apparently, because I had just recently realized I needed something like that, though I still didn't know yet what in blazing hell for.

"Maybe you're right. Well, Octava, I thank you for the advice. Maybe I can give Tercera a shot."

That was his way of getting even, otherwise I was truly madness in flesh. It wasn't that I was getting false hope up, but if all this meant nothing, then maybe a million other things out there had no meaning as well… my chest started to get tighter.

"Maybe. Well, I'll call this a night. Next week, please bring Lilineth with you. Goodnight, Stark."

Give her a shot, huh? Just what sort of shot was he willing to give her anyway? I ought to save myself the trouble of thinking, and the pain, as a matter of fact. At times like these, the best I could count on was an awakening from this crap. Stark was Stark. I was simply one among a million copies of mass mediocrity. No. I wasn't like that. I had the prettiest face among Aizen's army and, above all, I was a genius.

Just why did it hurt?

I'd really go insane within these four walls, so before I entertained the idea of figuring it out for sure, I hurtled out of my room to take a decent stroll.

Wrong idea.

From the atrium balcony, a sight down below was doing its best to spoil things. My life, for instance. Halibel and Stark were standing close to each other and, with the way they were communicating, they wouldn't be catching anyone by surprise if they walked on the aisle by tomorrow.

Just what the hell was this? I longed for a peace of mind, not a total wit-annihilator!

On second thoughts, it was possible that my eyes was simply showing me what was happening in the worst possible light, in the same way it was possible that those two really were the best pair some god like Aizen could come up with. So, with no adequate thinking involved, I found myself marching towards the throne room, wherein trivial matters and personal errands held no place. I knocked on the door, whose scale brought my size well out of proportion,

"Come in, Szayel."

Cautiously I heaved myself inside and announced, "Aizen-sama, I have a request."

He studied me, pensively, perhaps channeling thoughts through me, thoughts like if I tried to get smart with him all I'd get was something beyond my imagination. And I had a good range of imagination, besides being a sadist.

"Speak of it, Octava Espada."

"I wish to be pulled out of the laboratory. I-I haven't been getting any good results lately and I'm much aware field experience is what I need most to rear my skills as a warrior. Field operations, sir, assign me to one."

It wasn't much different from struggling to set myself against the decrees of fate, but it was all starting to fall into place. I was probably falling in love with Primera Espada, which wasn't a wonderful thing because, inexplicably, it only drove me to think all things worth living was starting to disappear. I was going insane for real this time and I needed to get away, lest I start inventing explosives with which to kill myself.

"As you wish. As you are already aware, forces from Soul Society have come to rescue their comrade, Inoue Orihime. The names of the intruders are as follows; Sado Yasutora, Uuryu Ishida, and Kurosaki Ichigo. These three are a threat but, sooner, reinforcements shall come to jump in the carnage as well, captains maybe, and about four of them. If that time comes, I'm leaving one of them to you. Do not let me down, Espada."

"Consider it done, my lord."

The Lord of Hueco Mundo nodded with a faint smile, which probably served to show how genuinely he believed in my strength; except that it was in fact a sordid display of sarcasm. Of course I consoled myself. I was a genius, after all.

Out here on the hallway I had to rely on my human abilities, if there remained any, to grasp the scale of what I had just dipped myself into. There was this huge possibility that I had just asked for my death, begged for it even. Somehow, and having an open mind, I was sure it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to die like a dog and be trampled on like a rag doll. And additionally, chances were, I'd probably be better off with that than to dissolve slowly as Stark went on to form a happy family.

But then, forgetting about Primera Espada was impossible, as he was kind enough to be _everywhere_.

"Can't find Lilineth."

He was leaning against a column, his angle against it signifying how used he was to doing this. To my dismay, at some point in the observation it became entirely clear to me that this man could _really _take my breath away, perhaps even in a literal sense.

"She's not in the throne room; that's for sure."

"Can't we go on with the study without her?"

That was when I realized he had showed up with a singular intent; to see me.

"Oh, that. Well, if possible, I'd like her DNA. A strand of her hair would do. Tomorrow, perhaps?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Shall we proceed to your laboratory?"

I nodded. I was more than tempted to ask how far he had gone with Tercera Espada or if her boobs were as nearly satisfying as what their size implied, but he started walking beside me, as if to magnify the differences in our stature. And that shut me up long enough to remember something,

"Stark, I've given up this assignment. I'm honored to have been accorded the responsibility, but you don't have to be my guinea pig any longer."

That wasn't how I intended it to sound, to be clear. At any rate, he cut his pace, and stared at me with a look of confusion so unfamiliar to me.

"You mean, it's over?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Just like that?"

"I reckon someone else will carry on the job to take on from where we took off."

His eyebrows wouldn't relax, as if no assurance had made its way to his ears. But what was wrong with his eyes? It was as though they were filled with all the sadness of a farewell, or that was what I was seeing in spite of the fact that something like that was thoroughly, solidly impossible, like a miracle. For my part, I wanted to believe otherwise, as it was only reasonable to do so, if only believing would make things easier as they normally did. And I believed he was incapable of loneliness, and that was all. For all I knew, if all things were to perish and Primera alone remained, the world for him would go on, for he never needed anyone, never was aware that attraction was something that actually existed.

"So _we're_ over, Octava Espada?"

That was when I remembered what aspect of death he embodied: Loneliness.

**TBC**

**A/N: originally i scaled this for a 4-chapter piece but it's not gonna cut it so make that 5.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

It had always been traditional for me to do wrong things from the right motives. So when Stark asked me a question I never had thought I'd ever get the honor of answering, I just stood there, stunned, as if ambushed by more than just words.

"Are we over, Grantz?" he repeated, now drawing even closer.

Warily, I flinched, taking into account the privileges of someone of his rank; I wasn't just about to turn my back on the strongest, most formidable one. Even so, I wanted only to scamper away because I was going mad, no questions about it, while he did what he could to see to that.

"Right from the _start_, Stark."

As it was obvious enough without elaboration, these words were due to pride, coupled with madness, other than the honest truth. He seemed astounded now, just as much as I was with my own audacity, so much that I came to doubt what I was seeing.

"So this is how it ends."

He said it like it hardly meant anything profound, not like the way it should when grieving for old friendships impossible to revive… not that I was familiar with friendship and whatever else that came along with it.

"We all will end-as we were broken from the start."

"Submission, huh? It isn't like you."

"Why do you think our powers embody aspects of death? Is something like that necessary, Primera Espada?"

"To convey fear? Frankly, analysis isn't my specialty, so that's barely a decent answer. Isn't it sufficient to know we're strong in a degree beyond its scope?"

I was, above all, a lover of knowledge. Evident as it was, my intellectual pursuits never really covered the nature of our powers and what they were said to represent, granted that Aizen's explanations were accurate. I didn't know if Madness was something inherent in me or if I was ordained or obligated to inspire it from people. As for Stark, it was no less confusing. Loneliness, whatever it might've been, roused no association with him.

And then it dawned on me, unexpectedly, like a reward that came late or never.

"No, it's never sufficient. I understand it all too perfectly now. We do not reek of the stench of death for all the world to fear; rather, we are plagued with this curse whose only cure is death. I'll die of madness, and you of loneliness, though I don't know what's keeping Segunda alive if he's supposed to die of old age, from which he, without a question, has for so long been suffering."

He forced a laugh, if my eyes weren't deceiving me or if it was possible to force him into anything. And for someone who could practically do anything by merely willing it, he must really be having much difficulties for having to smile without meaning it.

"Death. Is it the only thing that awaits all us Espada?"

"I have good reasons to believe so."

His palm reached out for his forehead, perhaps to convey how far he'd gone over the limits of his patience. I was starting to imagine him walking away, fists stuffed in his pockets, heading towards a place where a nice bed awaited him or something more worthy than the headache I might've been giving him all the while. But he inched in closer, and my vision began to distort as though time, not space, was decreasing between us. Suddenly it occurred to me that I was in no shape to endure any of this, when he now was going further afield than he had done yet. And even more disquieting was the silence, absurd as it sounded. I deemed, with quite enough theories to convince anyone, that someone like him was a hundred times more terrible in silence than even when he'd produce noise.

"That's just too bad."

"What is?"

"That you have to _make _me chase you around, Szayel."

If it was so hard to notice that he was driving me insane, perhaps I ought to suggest trying harder. I reckoned I was sending enough signals to have me enlisted in some psychiatric ward somewhere, but perversely he kept on advancing as though merely brushing aside some impalpable obstacle.

"What do you _want_, Stark? We're not allowed to combat under this roof."

"Nothing as complex as what you're thinking. And you're _no _match for me, just so you know." he informed me, as if that wasn't etched in stone.

With the least resort to effort, he lifted my chin with the tips of his fingers. I wanted to struggle, out of panic or simply indecision, only to be faced with the fact that I could no more do it than I could punch the sky above. As it was, the next thing I knew was he was running his other hand over my shoulder, in what seemed like an attempt to bring our faces closer than they already were.

"Stark…"

"Don't worry. If you don't think you're strong enough to conquer the death our lord promptly assigned to us, please know I'm strong enough for the both of us. Aizen didn't make me Primera for nothing."

"W-what do you know? We're just pawns to him, instruments, Stark! Do you not see it?"

Plain and manifest, I was beginning to show early tendencies of madness for reasons that stood so far away from my faculties. My voice, if I had heard it correctly, was stricken with earnest, utmost panic, as if this was the very hour in which Aizen's designs would finally come to full play. And neither I nor Primera Espada had the making to prevent our doom. Thus I had to prevent myself from falling where I had never stumbled before; to allow my raw feelings for this man to thrive. But this feeling wouldn't spare anyone, that much I knew.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you're wrong. Come to think of it, I don't know much either. But do you want me, Grantz?" I heard him ask with no special solemnity.

I wished he hadn't said that to subdue me because the only progress it did was to take me a yard closer towards Death's scythe. He had said it nonetheless, and I was left to think he had fallen in love with me without my giving him any cause for it. So now that he was unsure of himself and was beginning to lose conviction, we only had to stand close to each other, to somehow disperse these heavy, stony clouds, if only to comfort two lost souls.

"There are only as many realities as one cares to imagine. I think I'm in love with you, Stark, and though everything now is a clear proof of the inevitable, that the Shinigami race shall annihilate us, I believe you when you say you're strong enough for the two of us. Save me."

"I'll pull you out of madness, even from death, if that time comes. In the meantime, let me take you away." Sounding as convincing as truth itself, he assured me.

"Then be plagued with loneliness no more."

He kissed me.

_Days later I came to know firsthand that everything had been an illusion. Stark would fail to keep every promise, and to prevent the Shinigami bastards from decimating us. I, in return, could do nothing as Aizen summoned him to lay siege on Karakura Town, where he and the other two strongest Espada were destined to skirt the particular methods of death decreed onto them. Down here, I was being reduced to total madness by a level of torment I had never known before it consumed me, little by little, slowly, unendurably, eternally, down from grade to grade of wretchedness as promised by a mad scientist whose name I never would have known. And somewhere above Hueco Mundo's sky, I knew that Stark had failed to escape his doom as well. Sensing what had become of me, alone and lonely he had died, to go where I couldn't have followed._

**END**

**a/n: alright, you can kill me for this crap. just wanna say happy endings don't happen to a lot of people =)  
**


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